Monday, May 1, 2017

My Second Dad

Someday, I will have lost my dad three times. The first time was when he suffered a head injury in 1986, the second time was when he started having seizures in 2004, and the third time is yet to come.

Isaac's second birthday party was on Saturday and this was the first time I realized that I missed my second dad, the one I knew growing up. After his car accident, but before his seizures began, the fear of a "tantrum," or a violent outburst, always lurked in the shadows. However, Dad was the best dad he could be. And I miss him. As we got ready to leave for the party at Heritage Park, for the first time I realized how much I ache for the dad I had growing up.

Dad was active and DID stuff with me and my sister: swimming, mall trips, ice skating (he couldn't skate because of his knee injury from the car accident, but watched and waved to us behind the railing), driving to volleyball games, volunteering for school fundraisers, putt-putting, etc. At any hour of the day, Dad was just a phone call and 10-minute car ride away; he came to kill spiders, play Uno, or drink Root Beer floats in the garage while it rained. I'll always remember the sounds of dripping rain in the dark garage, sipping at our floats in lawn chairs.

Now, after the 2004 seizures (and recurring ones), Dad can't do much. I am thankful he remembers me and his grandchildren, but I miss his joy in doing things. He spends most days in his "office," a rental apartment that his brother owns, reading Greek translation books. It's almost funny that while Dad can't keep up with a Nancy Drew book, he still manages his Greek. He does two half-hour sessions on his exercise bike, reads those books, makes lunch, takes a shower, watches TV...and that's about it. Remembering his life before, this routine depresses me, but I have to remember that he is content with the routine. He clearly knows his life is supposed to be more than this, but he needs the repetition, the stability.

On Saturday, I thought how much pre-2004 Dad would have loved to come to the party. I can just picture him walking to the playground, carrying a tower of wrapped presents for Isaac.

Like most people, I didn't realize how great of a Dad I had. His love and generosity were too often overshadowed by his head injury and the possible "tantrums." He no longer enjoys large parties, but used to. I'll always remember him coming to Pizza Hut after volleyball games, surprising the large table by paying the whole bill. He loved people and loved being generous. I wish he could be here, playing with Isaac and holding Esther. If that same Dad were here today, I could see him packing up his apartment and moving down to Greenville in a U-haul truck, spending every day with his grandchildren and treating us all to frozen yogurt.

I can't bring "either" Dad back. But I can pass on his legacy by enjoying doing things with my own children and giving all of my heart to them. My sister and I were Dad's world; Isaac and Esther are now mine.

Currently, we don't have a garage, but when it rains, maybe we'll set up lawn chairs in front of the window and drink Root Beer floats.